


world.execute(me);

by asterions



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, M/M, Spoilers, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-15 06:12:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12315354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asterions/pseuds/asterions
Summary: The lights flicker on, and the killing game comes alive.And once again, Miu Iruma finds herself fighting against machinations not of her own design.





	world.execute(me);

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elisye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisye/gifts), [Mistropolis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistropolis/gifts).
  * Inspired by [keep your hands ablaze](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11947674) by [Elisye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisye/pseuds/Elisye). 



> so elicchi and misty said that this entire series is partially my fault, and that's blatant lies and i am hurt by this, so i wrote some (a lot of) cheap angst as revenge. much like misty's lexus cyanixs, the title is inspired by the song of the same name!!
> 
> i'm not good at tagging but besides the above, there's also a lot of (nondescript) vomiting, some low self-worth, and iruma's nsfw language (i tried my best to restrain her, but help it's so hard) so please be mindful! oh also there's a lot of beginning code, i just put it in for aesthetic so u can scroll past it
> 
> happy reading!

world.execute(me);

* * *

 

world.execute(me);

 

namespace program.start

 

session_start(korosi_ai);

 

require_once ‘han_sha.php’

 

*config.array ( ‘shu_sha’ => ‘k_ou_’,

    ‘ko_shiya’ => ‘ir_m_’,

    ‘ta_tai’ => ‘k_ou_’,

    ‘sandbox’ => true);

 

def initialize(context):

>>> def my.game (617, 3691)

 

.what game are you playing

first_line ‘“Guess this is the game they want us to play, hm?”’

print (first_line)

max.value = 1

not_solved = True

  


while not_solved

answer = input

you_said = You said “?” answer.

say (you_said)

if answer > truth

say (“Well, you’ve got one thing right.”)

elif answer < truth

say (“It’s only scary for a baby like you!”)

 

else:

say (“Is that because you’re going to play the game to win it? I wouldn’t be so sure about that sort of naïve confidence.”)

not_solved: False

 

>>>run final_check.php

world.addThing(v3_class);

world.addThing(witch_admin);

world.startSimulation();

 

You are almost asleep until you wake up with a start to the blaring of the killing game in your ears and the chafing of a suffocatingly tight bangle on one of your arms. One by one each member of the class checks the red-wristed words and screams about their self-prophesied deaths, and you, being considerate, have to force yourself to repress a sigh.

 

What a pain in the ass.

 

“Guess this is the sort of game they want us to play, hm,” that Supreme Leader says, folding his arms behind his back as the crackle of his whinnies echo over the empty, cracked halls.

 

It’s disgusting, and you tell him so in the hopes he’ll actually gag himself, but instead he chatters on.

 

“Well, you’ve got one thing right, Iruma-chan,” he says, not looking disgusted at all, “it is abhorrent. But tell me, what are you going to do to stop it?”

 

You snort. “None of your business. If you wanna go and jack off the mastermind, go the fuck ahead and leave me out of it.”

 

He skips off to cling to the detective, and you are left only with ambient whispers.

 

.

 

Some disperse, and some stay together.

 

The latter are the fools, obviously. Nobody needs to tell you that. But sometimes you have to think about the fact that everyone’s not nearly as gifted as you are, weren’t granted nearly the same opportunities, either; as much of a dick as that Ouma is, you can tell he’s got half a mind and if someone had raised him right he could actually do something with himself instead of being a jackass to everyone. (He’d never be as good as you, though.)

 

You need a nickname for someone like that, you think. Your own way of showing love, you think as you pace the abandoned, labyrinthine underground halls.

 

Suckma? No, you’ve already decided on Suckhara for the detective.

 

Lameuma? That name’s too kind.

 

Twinkma? Doesn’t flow right at all.

 

Maybe you should stop thinking of portmanteau names in this case, you think as you feel a cold touch tug on your skirt ghosting at the skin underneath.

 

You’re in the middle of thinking, dammit! You whirl around, about to yell about how whoever it was can deal with their little problems themselves instead of thinking of you as a cheap toy to use, but then the touch falls apart, and you look at him as weakly as they must feel.

 

Because lying in the middle of a bunch of scrap metal is a pitiable excuse of a robot, eyes electric blue and flashing so irregularly, so lifelessly, and it’s then and there that you know—

 

—you have to make a decision.

 

.

 

For all your god-given skills, you have never been a surgeon or a weightlifter.

 

Nevertheless, you try, because you are the great Iruma Miu and you can set your mind to any task that is possible or impossible, and that’s just how it is. (How it has to be.)

 

...But man, you honestly wish you had a little help.

 

Whether by coincidence or by something like fate, you hear Shittybashira before you see her.

 

“Oi, come here! I can’t ruin my beautiful body with all this manual labor, you know,” you shout as an incentive, since even in a silly thing like what Monobear calls a “killing game,” human instinct reigns supreme. That means flaunting your sex, usually, but then the other girl does something unusual.

 

“Iruma-san! Is that another student on your back? Wait, before that, are you okay?” she asks, strong arms gripping you by the shoulders. She could probably throw you if she wanted, and that thought makes the hairs on the back of your neck spike in excitement.

 

“I’m absolutely fuckin’ fine, thank you,” you say sarcastically. “You can try lugging this two-hundred pound thing, if you think it’s so easy.”

 

Shittybashira knots her thick brows together. “Two hundred is probably an exaggeration, but Tenko is always happy to help!”

 

Effortlessly, she picks up and cradles the robot as if he were a baby, not strained by the weight at all. So those arms of hers are _clearly_ not just for show, then. Good to know.

 

“Hm, what’s this life-sized robot doing here? Is it even a she?”

 

“It’s a robot, that’s what it is. I got no clue what it’s doing here.”

 

You try to stand up, and pain shoots through you like period cramps, bringing you down to your knees. She raises an eyebrow at you for this.

 

“Iruma-san,” she says, in a careful voice like she’s talking to a baby, “do you need any assistance?”

 

What, does she think you’re a weakling or something?! “I don’t need no fuckin’ help. Just carry it to my room.”

 

Shittybashira snorts so loudly, so disbelievingly that you’re certain the others can hear her. Before you can tell her to pipe the fuck down before you both get killed, she throws the robot on her back in one fluid motion and stoops in front of you, about to prostrate herself to you—

 

—when she picks you up princess-style in her arms, leaving you in the same position as the robot from earlier.

 

Ordinarily, you’d point to your hitched up skirt and make a raunchy comment about her handling of you to persuade her into dropping you, but you recognize she’s not only doing this for your benefit but the robot’s too, so you let it go without _too_ much fuss.

 

Not-So-Shittybashira handles you so preciously, so reverently despite her brutish, sweaty hands that you can’t complain much anyway.

 

In fact, it’s almost nice.

 

.

 

The robot boots up. You run the instruction manual as you tidy up odds and ends, Chabashira close by your side with her arm practically pressed against yours.

 

She might be thirsty for contact, but you’ve got a delicate job to do and you both know it.

 

Slowly but surely, the robot blinks awake.

 

“Run provider info,” you voice, putting every ounce of command into it.

 

It regards you oddly. “I thought it was human custom to say ‘please’ before asking someone for a favor.”

 

“Listen, I didn’t come here to listen to your sass. Who are you? Who the fuck made you? You’re so banged up I can’t even tell what model you are, but if you can at least tell me who made you, I can do a better job at making you back into what you’re supposed to be.”

 

It obliges. “Perhaps I was mistaken, then. My handler is Professor Renshichirou Iidabashi.”

 

You snort. The fuck kinda name was that? “Never heard of him.”

 

With surety, it says, “You wouldn’t have. He was sent into hiding for trying to build me, the first man-made human.”

 

“Clearly he failed on that front. Now I’m gonna have to repair this dumbass robot with a no-name engineer.”  You wave your pliers towards it in a threatening manner.

 

In response, it stiffly holds out it’s hand to stop you. “You seem to be a mechanic of considerable talent.”

 

You scowl. Why did they always get it wrong? “I’m Miu Iruma, the golden-girl genius, the SHSL Inventor! You better remember this, because I’m not fuckin’ repeating it for you again. What, you and that fucko Professor must’ve lived under a rock for no good reason trying to make you a human when they clearly didn’t know what the hell they were doing!”

 

“Which brings me to my next point. I don’t want to be just a robot. Everyone would suspect me on the spot for being allied with the mastermind when I was just attacked and brought here like the rest of you. So… if you really are the SHSL Inventor… make me human.”

 

You can't help it, you really can't. Laughter bubbles from within you, giving rise to sharp cackling. “Hyahyahya! Now, this is interesting! You want to make use of my genius skills? Why the fuck should I do that for you?”

 

For the first time, the robot shifts in a manner close to discomfort, but it stands its ground. “To prove that you can. You’d be the world's greatest inventor if you accomplished this, not merely a Super High School Level.”

 

You almost want to sigh at how desperate it is. If that Iidabashi wanted to make a human, he definitely got the irrational part down pat. “You really should find a better argument,” you say generously.  “But I guess I’ll service you for now. You better be grateful, because the great Miu Iruma is gonna do something absolutely wonderful for you!”

 

Chabashira coughs. “You’re really going with this? We don’t even know their name—”

 

The robot drops to its knees. “I am Robot Model K1-B0. And I request of you; no matter what I have to do for you in return, please make me human.”

 

“Hell yeah,” you grin to Chabashira, spinning your wrench, “this is gonna be _good._ ”

 

Chabashira only sighs and grabs your tool kit in response.

 

.

 

“Pleased to meet you. I am Tetsuya Iidabashi, the SHSL Robotics Engineer, but if you don't mind, please call me Kiibo. I hope we can get along.”

 

You grin as he politely introduces himself, as he adjusts the collar of his gakuran so that it's buttoned up as far as it can go.

 

His face is a masterpiece, you think with no small amount of love. The little grooved lines that stretched from the robot’s eyes to his jaw have vanished, now replaced with smooth, flawless, porcelain, _human_ skin which bounces on contact if you dared to touch it.

 

That doesn't stop the abortion from curiously poking at Kiibo’s cheek repeatedly, as if toy stuffing would come out from him if he kept doing it. Without fail, the soft skin turns back to its natural state each time.

 

You really have outdone yourself on this one, you think yet again in amazement, nodding and grinning.

 

However, you didn't have that much material inside that lab in the first place, and making enough plastic skin grafts to cover a whole human body would take a lot of time and energy that you're not willing or capable to expend as of right now, so you limited them to his face, neck, and extremities.

 

You're pretty sure that from all that prodding that little shit’s figured your gambit out somehow, but then that blind horse asks something completely different to Kiibo.

 

“Hey, hey, are you a boy or a girl?”

 

“Neither,” he says, trying to set him down. But Ouma keeps prodding at him anyway, and he sighs. “I suppose most people think I'm a boy, but who knows?”

 

Their bored look does a complete 180. “Ah, the same as me, then!”

 

Kiibo’s mouth opens, and somehow fails to shut. You want to tell him to shut his mouth, because if he kept it open for too long he would probably vore a fly.

 

“The same as… you?”

 

You look at Kiibo critically. For him to bother you so much about ‘becoming a human,’ this must be what he really wanted more than anything. And when it happens, and the class finally accepts him as one of their own, he stares at it like it's not something he deserves.

 

It’s kinda sad, really.

 

“Well, yeah? You look a little bit dumb, but don’t tell me you don’t know what nonbinary people are.”

 

“I’m not a fool!” comes the retort. But it simmers into something quieter. “I know that much, at least. Yes, I suppose that’s the most accurate descriptor of myself. Unnecessary gendered terms… why do people always go for one or the other? The world is not that limited.”

 

“See, Kiiboy gets it!” They cling to them, swinging back and forth despite there not being much of a height difference between them. “Gender’s fake, almost as much as the world is!”

 

“You think the _whole world_ is fake?But it’s right there?”

 

“But what if that’s just a human delusion? Our eyes are so clouded all the time that we can’t see what’s right in front of us! Everyone wants to claim they’re awake, when in fact they’re really asleep! Constantly slumbering, unaware of everything, only wanting to do what’s comfortable.”

 

“I suppose I wouldn’t be able to tell the truth either, if I was really asleep. You raise a fair point.”

 

“Ehh, you should really be putting up more of a fight, you know! Keep this up and you’ll become another boring, sleeping human. You don’t want that, do you?”

 

“No,” they agree, being pulled by Dumbma in the direction of the cafeteria. “No, I don’t.”

 

.

 

“I can't believe that worked.” Chabashira says in awe, whispering in your ear. It's still a little too loud to be discreet, but you can't say you dislike the feeling of her hot breath on your neck, or the feeling of her breasts against you.

 

Your hand is in hers, across her lap. Her wrist flashes as you tap against it and you do your best to ignore it. That’s not your business.

 

“Of course it did, I’m a genius, remember? This is child’s play to me.”

 

“Tenko is still wondering though,” she says, tapping a finger to her chin, right next to her beauty mark. “Why couldn't you just pull out some the faulty machinery when you were fixing them? Or just dismantle them entirely? That way you wouldn't have to deal with any of this. This is most definitely a little fishy!”

 

You twirl a strand of hair around your finger. “Well, I felt kinda bad for them, you know? And I did my fuckin’ best with what little I could. There were materials for skin grafts and like none of the important stuff in my lab, anyway. What’s a bitch gonna do?”

 

“Well regardless, Tenko will support you all the way, Iruma-san!”

 

“Sure, sure. Now can we fuckin’ eat? You martial-arts types can't do shit without food.”

 

“Alright, but Tenko will not split her nabe with you!”

 

“Keep your nabe, the meaty gyoza is where it's at!”

 

.

 

Chabashira wakes you up one night and tells you to hurry up. You can't fiddle with all the rings and straps on your uniform, so you just pull on your boots and run out the door.

 

It’s completely soundless and dark except for candlelight, but you can feel the ticking trickles of blood that must come from the dying body Chabashira must have found, otherwise you probably wouldn't be running with a medical kit in hand.

 

“H-hey, what the fuck happened that you had to pull me out of my beauty sleep?”

 

“Tenko doesn't know what happened but someone has been making loud noises all night. I thought you could check it out from your end but you weren't answering your Monopad, so I had to get you personally.”

 

“I'm an inventor, not a surgeon! What if someone comes up dead?”

 

Chabashira flinches a little. “You were able to help Kiibo-san, and none of the others have medical experience, from what Tenko knows. And Tenko is sure you can save everyone, girls and the menaces both.”

 

“What about people like Ouma? Don't tell me you're gonna exclude ‘em.”

 

“Kiibo-san’s perfectly alright. Ouma-san is a menace by association,” she says, wrinkling her nose.

 

“You mean they’re a complete fucking brat.”

 

“Tenko thinks that's putting it kindly,” she says, and you laugh before you arrive at the end of the hall where Chabashira heard the noises.

 

The knocking has stopped entirely.

 

Your hand is on the knob. “Ready when you are.”

 

“Tenko will flip whoever comes, menace or not! Let’s go!”

 

You walk in, and flick open the lights as Chabashira rushes forward.

 

Amami’s on the floor, his avocado hair matted with bright-eye searing pink, and Chabashira’s sandals make a sticky, wet noise as she falls back. The medical kit is on the floor, and—

 

—that's the last thing you see before you hear a loud whirring noise and your vision goes dark.

 

.

 

You wake up with your head rolled to the side, touching the cool walls.

 

You feel very sticky all over for some reason, and your head is pounding like a gavel. God, what did you get up to last night? You haven't had alcohol in forever.

 

There is a hand on your shoulder, shaking you, and amongst the murmuring of apprehensive voices, and you shove that hand away.

 

But when you look thirteen pairs of eyes are all above you, and yours are fixed on theirs in return. Momotitty is the closest to you, crouched to your level and hand hanging limply in the air.

 

“The fuck’s going on? Don't tell me I drank too much or something?”

 

“I-Iruma-san,” Dekachin stutters, his glasses slipping, and you finally look down.

 

With the most peaceful expression on her face, Chabashira is cradled against your chest, her face a vibrant, sticky pink with blotchy, poisonous purple at the edges. Her hand is in yours and it is cold, colder than Kiibo’s metal.

 

Somehow, your brain skips the denial stage. You don't shake her to see if she is in fact secretly awake. All you can do is to look at the NG Code on her wrist.

 

Red pixels spin back and forth with “protect someone from being attacked,” and you can only open your mouth to scream.

 

.

 

Akamatsu denies her involvement at first, which pushes the blame onto Saihara.

 

Your eyes narrow along with Ouma’s in tandem. You know she killed them, but you can’t really prove how. But that shouldn’t matter, should it? You were a genius! And even if you weren’t, everyone could see it!

 

But the wimpy detective still keeps trying to defend her, and it’s frustrating beyond all means.

 

You growl, and it’s not missed by him, not by the way he cowers. “When will you wake up—”

 

Someone cuts you off.

 

“Saihara-chan,” they say, “can I ask you a question?”

 

He’s taken aback, but agrees with a, “What is it, Ouma-kun?”

 

“Where were you, again, when the Body Discovery Announcement was playing?”

 

“I was walking towards the courtyard from the dining hall before I heard the sirens.”

 

“And was anybody with you?”

 

Saihara shakes his head. “No.”

 

“And Akamatsu-chan was walking towards the library, right?”

 

“Yes.”

 

They put two fingers to their forehead, sneer growing and eyes sharpening. “Aha, caught you! I didn't think it would be this easy!”

 

Now Saihara grows pale, virginal blush rising to the high points of his face. “W—Wha?”

 

“The dining hall is in the same direction as the library, Saihara-chan. And if that's the case… you should have seen Akamatsu-chan running towards you. If her testimony is true, that is. She was the first one to see the body if you don't count the passed-out Iruma-chan, after all!”

 

Saihara seems to have lost what little words he’s had, instead making annoying, weak choking noises.

 

“Hey, Suckhara! Quit lookin’ like you sucked someone’s dick behind a fast food dumpster!”

 

“Let's just ignore that,” Ouma says with cheer, and you squawk. “the point is, either you're lying, or she’s lying! So, what is it? And don't think of running into whatever kitty corner you want to. After all, you couldn't reach my level of lying in a hundred years!”

 

“B-but,”

 

“Saihara-chan,” they say, soothingly, like a parent to a child. “It’s okay. You can trust me.”

 

Saihara sucks in a breath, and Ouma flips again. “Or maybe you can't? I am a liar, after all. If you want to prevent me from condemning your girlfriend to death, you’ll just have to challenge me, you know! I wonder whose hope is stronger? The hope you have that Akamatsu-chan isn't the culprit, or the hope I have that she is?”

 

“Y-you can't seriously hope for something like that, Ouma-kun—”

 

“You're right! Maybe I can hope you’ll be my boyfriend instead!”

 

“H-Huh?!”

 

“I’m joking, Saihara-chan, lighten up!”

 

He looks at them with an expression approaching disgust, but he schools his face into something a little more neutral. “O-oh. Of course.”

 

“Let’s get to testing our theories, then! Flip the chessboard and reconstruct the crime scene for me, detective!”

 

.

 

Checkmate.

 

“Correct!” Monokuma cheers. “The culprit of this case is Kaede Akamatsu! A round of applause, everyone!”

 

Nobody claps.

 

You’re so full of hate right now, but you’re also not quite sure what to say. Neither does the rest of the class—but it’s especially disconcerting for a genius like you, to not know how to string together words. But it doesn't stop that damn bear from yapping through plaintive silence.

 

“Well, let’s get on to the most exciting part of the trial! The execution!”

 

Everyone pales.

 

“…that's what I could say, if I could do it myself! But unfortunately, these budget cuts are really getting to me! It's awful, you know? Running a killing game isn't cheap, but they make me do it with such limited funds anyway! I'd love for you to be able to just watch as your classmates bled out to death one by one, helpless to do absolutely anything, but I guess we’ve gotta do this the hard way!”

 

Then, from below, the center of the podium lights up and flips over, revealing a very expensive array of swords and guns and other shit used for killing that you don't really feel like naming right now.

 

You blurt out, “What makes you think we can't use this shit on you?” before you can think, and all eyes are on you.

 

The toy eyes you confidently. “That's because this entire room is booby-trapped!”

 

Momota sputters. “Wh-what?”

 

“Well, that might not be the most accurate word, but I mean what I say! If I let loose any bomb, you all will be killed instantly! Painfully! Without room to even pray to god!”

 

“Ehh, so you won't even grant Angie’s classmates that?”

 

“Nope! Not unless you all band together and kill your former classmate right there. I said so, didn't I? You had to finger the culprit and end them. Except this time, it's by your own hand! So who wants to step up to bat first this time! I promise I won’t shoot a million fungoes at you if you do!”

 

“Are you joking,” Ouma says, revulsion seeping through their voice. “Are we _really_ going to go through with this?”

 

Shitguuji narrows gilded eyes at them. “You can not seriously take an act this far, you are aware.”

 

“Of course,” they say to him, trying to control their voice to sound bored. You think even Gonta could probably tell how heavy their sarcasm is. “I’m a liar, aren't I? My supreme organization has clearly killed hundreds of thousands of people! But you’ll have no help from me! This sort of thing is your job, and if you paid more attention she wouldn't have killed anyone in the first place. So do it yourself!”

 

He storms off, and Monokuma lets them ascend the elevator with a cackle.

 

Momodick stupidly decides to jump in with,. “Oi, why the fuck did you let them go like that?!”

 

“Well, let’s just say they have some _beary_ exceptional circumstances. Whatever that is, you’ll have to find out later! For now, it's time for the main event!”

 

The voting screen loads again.

 

“Because none of you seem to want to cooperate, you have to choose! Who will be the one among you who should kill the blackened! Go for it now, or go for it never! It's voting time!”

 

You choose the abortion in the hopes that everyone will do the same and there won’t have to be an execution, but without fail the stage lights shine on Suckhara.

 

Without fail, he rattles and shakes and sweats, and when Akamatsu tells him, “I guess that’s what I deserve anyway for doing this,” he can’t hold back his scream and steps back into someone else.

 

He trembles as he places the gun to the pianist’s forehead, being half supported by the maid as they help him walk closer and closer. The entire time, Bakamatsu’s eyes are closed, as if peaceful, but her face is turning blue and her legs are straining to root themselves to her spot.

 

The maid steadies the detective’s hand. “If you lose focus on your grip, it will miss. Be sure to grant a swift end.”

 

“I… I can’t.”

 

“You can,” she says. “I’m here with you.”

 

Akamatsu tries to run at the last second, but the steadily-aimed bullet lodges itself in her temple anyway—and you hear that damn bear cackling with triumph at the fact.

 

She doesn’t die instantly like you were expecting, and Lamehara’s death wails fill the room as if he were the one to be shot, cutting out her sputtering, whimpering cries.

 

Her last coherent words are probably something to the effect of, “take care of everyone,” but you can’t tell because you feel so, so far away right now.

 

This isn’t what it should be like. You should feel elated that she’s dead, because she’s a murderer and murderers deserve to die, but now when you look at Akamatsu’s red, gold and purple corpse, the colors that mark a noble death—

 

—you can only feel hollow.

 

You helped to finger the culprit. You made sure they didn't get away with it and kill everyone else. Chabashira should be resting in peace, but all you can think about is how you held her so securely in your arms but you couldn't—could never—save her.

 

The maid nods, full of purpose as she steps forward and forcefully closes that fool’s eyes, humming a little symphony as she contorts Akamatsu’s now pale face to force semblances of peace.

 

When he turns, Lamehara’s face is pressed into Titsjou’s shoulder, and despite her being all up in the ass about cleanliness, she takes it stoically when his vomit trails down her pristine white sleeve.

 

She lays a gloved hand on his back, as his shoulder is also filth-covered. “Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we,” she prompts softly.

 

He can barely muster a nod, so she picks him up much like Chabashira held you a baby and makes him rest his head on her clean shoulder.

 

“Don’t worry,” she says to him, “I promised to protect everyone. That includes you, too.”

 

Monokuma’s cheers of congratulations for being alive soar across the room until everyone rides the elevator back up, and then everything is dead silent.

 

If you were a poet, you’d say the music of sound died with Akamatsu Kaede.

 

But you aren't, so you don't say anything.

 

.

 

When you rest, the corpses of your classmates dance and flit between your eyes between the boundary of lies, so sprawling and web-like you cannot fathom where it ever began.

 

You wake up to hear Saihara crying in the middle of the night, and you turn over and reach for the earplugs in the drawer.

 

The reality of the situation keeps you awake for the rest of the night.

 

.

 

Shirogane and Angie die in a ritual circle, hands tied with rope towards the ceiling as if they could reach the heavens without wings.

 

Hoshi barks out, “Don’t look, Gonta!” but in the next second Hoshi is squished against Gonta’s chest, and they don’t move until you give the order to investigate.

 

Everyone jolts and disperses from each other simultaneously like mist, but you notice three pairs who refuse to leave each other.

 

The first is of course, Hoshit and Gontick, of whom the former is being picked up by the latter so that he’s finally not at dick-sucking height.

 

The next is Suckhara, who trails so closely behind Hoejou that when she sidesteps some debris he immediately falls, and the very next second she’s on him, tending to the cut on his palm. He hisses as she cleans it.

 

The third, to your utter bewilderment, is Kiiboy and Oafma. They’re the only ones talking loudly, discussing something about the Uncanny Valley or whatever.

 

You close your eyes and pick up a heavy cage and you wished desperately Chabashira were here with you as you strain to lift it. But suddenly you can feel the metal lift, and Kiibo smiles at you sincerely as they help you set it down, Ouma trailing behind them in tow with hands behind their back.

 

“Hey, you little abortion, you might as well make yourself useful and help us carry this!”

 

They snicker. “I believe in gender equality. Plus, you look like you need the exercise, Iruma-chan!”

 

“Then move your skinny ass, you little shit,” you say with no real venom.

 

The whole time you and Kiibo search for clues, they simply stand there looking longingly at Saihara from afar, and reach their hand by centimeters before retracting over and over again.

 

In the end, Ouma leaves to follow him, and Kiibo pats your shoulder to remind you that they're still there as you descend the elevator.

 

.

 

There was too much evidence lying around for the culprit to go free, and Shinguuji stands there in jittery silence as hateful, condemning words fly at him.

 

Eventually, however, everyone tires of their own voices, and he takes his chance to speak up.

 

Raspily, he pleads. “You must understand. I didn’t want it to come to this.”

 

Your voice, as always, comes first. “Like fuck you didn’t, you dirt-bag! You could have just not killed, you fucking sicko!”

 

He taps at his bracelet, and the words “fail to complete your goal before the third time limit” appear in red. Or so you think, before it vanishes and everyone stills.

 

“Well, since I’m going to die anyway,” he says, the corner of his eyes sharp to the point of Harukawa’s blade, “do you want to know what my goal was?”

 

Everyone steps back, clearly revolted, but Yumeno, timid Yumeno, steps forward, ready for his secret.

 

Shinguuji removes his mask, revealing a vulgar, untarnished ruby-red mouth as he leans down towards her, close to her ear, and whispers secrets.

 

You don’t hear what he said, if anything, over the sound of the dying coughs sputtering from Yumeno’s half-torn red neck and the sound of Shinguuji’s crowing cackles as Harukawa delivers the same retribution in turn.

 

.

 

Sigh-hara can’t be separated from Hoejou these days, you complain to Kiiboy.

 

“It’s true,” they hum. “Saihara-kun is quite over-reliant on her, and Toujou-san spares to pain to help him at every opportunity. I believe the appropriate analogy would be like a chick following the mother goose everywhere she goes. Their codependency is a bit worrying, but so long as it is mutual, it should be a suitable relationship for both of them.”

 

“Wh- _relationship?_ Are they already like that? Didn’t expect Cowardhara to move so fuckin’ fast. Unless it was that maid’s doing, since if she can clean after up him—”

 

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Iruma-san, but I merely speak to their base needs as people. Even before Toujou-san decided to make Saihara-kun her ward, Saihara-kun clearly got too easily attached to others, because he is weak—”

 

You whistle, cutting off the rest of their sentence. “Yeesh, you’re pullin’ no punches here, Kiibaby.”

 

“—and another thing. Toujou-san constantly went above and beyond to serve everyone’s needs, and quite reliably at that. If I believed in something like fate, I’d probably assume it was almost by design. Someone who beyond anything else needs someone to depend on, and someone who needs to be depended upon above all else—it’s quite an ideal match, isn’t it?”

 

“Maybe,” you say. “Speaking of ideal matches, I know what isn’t happening,” and you jerk your head towards Ouma.

 

“It is unfortunate, isn’t it,” Kiibo says, sipping their tea. They can taste it, but it can’t be digested quite yet.

 

You rub at your temples. “I just think they should stop making goo-goo eyes at him and ask him the fuck out already. It’s just really embarrassing.”

 

“Even if somehow he accepted, it wouldn’t work. They’ve already tried so desperately to bring Saihara-kun out of their shell, but it only makes him retract further. A relationship like this would only hurt Ouma-kun at this rate.”

 

You think of how well they seemed to get along before Ouma backed him into a corner and forced him to condemn Akamatsu. You think of the traces of bitterness that line his face, cut deep grooves with her loss and their betrayal.

 

That expression wasn’t even directed towards you, but you shudder under its weight every time every time he makes it.

 

And every time, Ouma pretends that hate was a lie that never existed.

 

“Yeah,” you agree. “Yeah, you’re right. It wouldn’t be good for either of them.”

 

When you sleep, you see a dream so vivid it might as well be a vision, a knife protruding blooming blood from Saihara’s back as Toujou screams about how much of a burden he is and if he could just get out of her way, already, she’s sorry but didn’t have time to babysit him if it meant the entire country was at stake—and Ouma is there, frozen in place and speechless as Saihara screams for them to just help him already—before she stabs and stabs and stabs, apologizing the whole time.

 

Ouma looks haunted even before they run away.

 

.

 

The next day, Toujou and Saihara are both found slumped against one another, with poison trailing down her neck and blood down his—her expression perfectly, placidly still and his face screaming for someone to save him from something that already transpired. Regardless of their different states of rest, one thing remains true—they both equally stink of rot.

 

You fight down the urge to vomit, but Ouma doesn’t.

 

.

 

“Why are you so suspicious of Toujou?! She’s been doing nothing but helping us this whole time!”

 

“Because, Momota-chan, she was clearly been poisoned by her NG Code? I figured you were dumb, but I was sure you could read. Guess I was expecting too much from you!”

 

“Why can’t you just believe in her?! And obviously I can read, but it doesn’t look like you can—”

 

You cut in, holding up the bracelet Toujou had to everyone and tapping it. It says, “break a promise voluntarily,” which is honestly very vague, but you have a hunch, and you’re gonna follow it. These golden genius brain cells aren’t just for show, after all.

 

“Hey, Ouma.  Would that promise that bitch made be to ‘protect everyone,’ huh?”

 

Their expression doesn’t give, so you continue. “Particularly to protect Saihara?”

 

“What makes you say that, Iruma-chan?”

 

“Why did you run away with your tail between your legs instead of saving him from Toujou when you could, you fucko?”

 

The trial room breaks into fervent whispers, but Ouma cackles above it all.

 

“Wow, Iruma-chan can’t even construct proper sentences now! I didn’t know your latest invention was to perfect talking out of your ass to a new level! I’m sure your customers would love to have something like that!”

 

You spit in their direction, but it falls short, and by the time you’re done cursing them out the tightness in their face and the surprise in their voice are nonexistent.

 

Kiibo says, “I think what she means is you were probably at the scene of the crime, especially if you knew that much. But I don’t think that’s the truth. It is my belief that you cared for Saihara-kun deeply. You wouldn’t be fighting so hard for the truth if that was the case.”

 

“That’s far too naive of you, Kiiboy,” they say, in singsong. “Keep that up and you’ll be the next one dead.”

 

“Better to die for what I believe in than live a lie, in my opinion.”

 

They sneer, but it’s too sad to hold through, so it comes off as intensely pitiful. “Isn’t that cute? But how is that going to find our killer?”

 

“It’s simple. You can provide the answer, and so can Iruma-san. All we can do is believe.”

 

The votes are cast, and flowers bloom fruit.

 

Forced in the same old song and dance, Toujou almost escapes from the window before Momota pins her down and everyone simultaneously fires crossbow arrows at them both.

 

You wish for a second that you were shot, so you could die just as usefully in a blaze of glory.

 

.

 

“Iruma-san, I have yet another favor to ask of you,” Kiibo says in the middle of maintainance. “Can you possibly make another human like me?”

 

“What the fuck is this for? You know that’s not an easy thing to do with what material we have. And hiding what we’re doing is going to be hell.”

 

“You know how Kokichi-kun’s been despondent lately,” they say, and you’re not sure how Kiibo, of all people, dropped last-name formalities with Ouma—but then you remember everyone blatantly refusing to give Ouma food earlier because of what happened in the last trial. They scampered away blank-faced and silent, and Kiibo told you to go on ahead and went to the kitchens.

 

Later, you see a trail of candies hidden in various places and a food tray at Ouma’s door—

 

—and suddenly it all makes sense.

 

Kiibo holds out their palm and stares into it wistfully, as if flesh could become metal again. “They… really miss Saihara-kun. And it’s okay if we don’t hide what we’re doing. I know Kokichi-kun doesn’t like robots, but if we can build Saihara-kun anew—and show them how we can make him human—then, perhaps, they can understand. They can,” they stammer, “They can be loved by someone who could love them back. They can—”

 

You grip them by the shoulders. “You’re shaking,” you say blankly, but then something wet drips down your leg and Kiibo clutches at their face, hiding their eyes.

 

Is this… a malfunction? You pry their hands from their face.

 

Water leaks and pours from the crevices of their eyes, and Kiibo stands in shambles, a flaccid puppet cut at the strings.

 

“I—I hate this,” they babble. “Why does this have to happen?”

 

“The world’s not fuckin’ fair, that’s why,” you tell them plainly.

 

“Please, Iruma-san—”

 

You embrace them, sliding your hands to the small of their back and pulling them close.

 

Their body is so unfairly warm and alive, and all you can think of is a cold hand in yours that never wanted to let go.

 

“Oh,” you say. “You know what sadness is.”

 

“If that’s what this feeling is, I think I know why humans desperately search for happiness. I wouldn’t wish this feeling on anyone.”

 

.

 

int asyncStorage.key(lex_cya_xs, ir_m_, callback (7)  {doSomething;(val); })

 

.

 

Saihara Shuuichi is reborn again, but just like his predecessor, he’s such a failure in every way that you’re already aggressively waving your wrench in his direction when he starts up.

 

The robot cowers, and Kiibo gently pushes your arm away. “Iruma-san, calm down, you're scaring him.”

 

“Well it can stay scared, because I’m gonna rip it out of them! It’s too weak and faulty as it is now!”

 

Kiibo tuts. “Iruma-san, that's discriminatory! You shouldn't be judging him for what he is!”

 

You sigh. “Kiibo, don’t be a dumbass. I only went ahead with this because you asked me to. _This_ was a terrible fucking idea. And if you're saying that, then why did you ask me to make _this?_ You made _this_ so that it could love Ouma, didn't you?”

 

“He can learn to feel,” they say confidently.

 

“Feel for who? It’s a robot. It’s hollow.”

 

“But then why did you help me? No matter how you look at it, that makes no logical sense, why did you like me enough to—”

 

You sigh and repeat words from long-ago, from an old story passed from parent to child. "Kiibo. I like you not because you are a robot. I like you because you're a Super High School Level student just like us. Because you're one of us."

 

.

 

int asyncStorage.key(k_yo_han_aze, sa_sh_, callback (6)  {doSomething;(val); })

 

.

 

“You know, Kiiboy, if you wanted to deceive me with this, you should have made a better effort. I hate liars, after all!”

 

Kiibo sweats. “Didn’t you hate being deceived?”

 

Something mumbles, “not all lies are deceptive,” and then falls silent.

 

Nobody heard it, so nothing spoke, and everyone stands in uncomfortable silence until Ouma unclenches their hand.

 

“Anyway, why did you make _that?_ Was _that_ supposed to make me feel better? Kiiboy, I thought you were my friend! This present sucks, I want a refund,” he wails, and Kiibo waves their hands in the air before trying to placate them.

 

This is already giving you a headache. “Oh, come _on!_ Just give the damn brat his candy already! Man, hearing babies cry drives me absolutely nuts, I swear to god…”

 

The robot jumps to attention. “Then… I can go get it for you! Ouma-kun, I don’t know what kind of candy you like though.”

 

Ouma pretends not to hear anything and clings more to Kiibo’s arm. The robot shifts and asks gently,

 

“Why won't you help me?”

 

You flinch, and Ouma seizes in place. For the first time, lavender eyes are perfectly pinned on the other Saihara.

 

Ouma takes a step closer, and another step, and then another, until there’s only a sliver of space between the two of them.

 

“Hey,” Ouma says in a low, breathy tone of voice, filled with unbridled anger. “Don’t appear in my line of sight again, okay? I hate fakes even more than I hate liars.”

 

A mechanical nod comes from the robot.

 

“Glad you understand, then!”

 

When Ouma skips off into the hallway, you and Kiibo breathe a sigh of relief. So long as it stayed out of the way of Ouma, they could live peacefully.

 

How troublesome.

 

.

 

But then the motive videos appear.

 

And again, yet again, you have to ask the same question.

 

“Why did you play this game?”

 

Hoshi pulls his hat close to him. A wry, sad smirk appears on his lips, and you think he’s shaking, but then his posture turns ramrod straight.

 

Despite it all, you still remember the person who woke up to Harukawa Maki’s body and made an immediate dash to the nearest corner of the room to hurl, and you can sympathize.

 

Not empathize, though. This person’s a killer, unlike you.

 

“Why I did it, huh… that’s an interesting question, innit,” he sighs, unable to look you or anyone in the eye.

 

Gonta sobs again. You don’t think he’s weak for doing so this time.

 

Hoshi raises his head and proclaims to the world, “I guess it’s because I finally found something to live for. And you should too, if you want to get out of here alive.”

 

He fights to his last breath before you pull the trigger.

 

.

 

Gonta is late to breakfast one day, and you pull back the covers to see him still asleep.

 

Red circles “fail to eat once every waking hour” round and around his wrist and purple circles his neck in return.

 

If there was a heaven, he’s probably in it.

 

You tuck him back in.

 

.

 

You have been watching as one by one, everyone spills their guts, their reasons for killing—such flimsy excuses backed with such tensely crackling resolve and pitch-perfect acting.

 

All that you hear from those empty words is “because someone wanted me to do it,” and you don't know whether that thought makes you feel elated or distressed. One one hand, someone’s clearly at the bottom of this and incapacitating them will end this killing game—but on the other hand, it means everyone is an enemy to your goal.

 

…well, not everyone.

 

Kiibo shows up promptly at your door, and of course, Ouma bounces at his heels.

 

“Everyone, it seems we’re the last ones.”

 

“How did you get this far without needing glasses again, Kiiboy?” Ouma hums listlessly, “It’s not like the dead will come alive again.”

 

Something in the corner of your eye flinches.

 

“Anyway,” you say, “they’ve challenged us to one last game, and I don’t plan on fuckin’ losing, alright? Just try not to drag me down.”

 

Ouma clicks their tongue, and Kiibo smiles with mischief.

 

In unison, they respond with, “Yes, yes, whatever you say, Iruma-chan.”

 

You scoff. “That’s the way it fucking should be.”

 

Everyone descends the elevator for what you know is the last time.

 

.

 

‘sandbox’ => false);

 

.

 

“Correct! Everything as you know it in the outside world has been absolutely destroyed!”

 

“Come again,” you say.

 

“Jeez, if you kids don't study hard on your vocabulary, you’ll never get into university, and then what will we do with you? Bad students get punished, after all! But I’ll allow you to use a lifeline this once. Synonyms for the word ‘destroyed,’ include: obliterated, razed, annihilated, gone, smashed to pieces—”

 

“I'm not that much of a dumbass,” you cut in weakly. “But where’s your fucking proof? You showed us those images, but those could have used CGI or Photoshop or whatever and suckers could still believe it. It's not that hard.”

 

“Wow, Iruma-chan is absolutely right for once! I’m proud of my daughter…” they fake sob, “she’s come so far…”

 

“If I came from your genes, I’d be ten times dumber!”

 

Kiibo breaks their silence with, “Kokichi-kun, don't antagonize her…”

 

“Fiiiiine. But moving on! What’s your proof, huh! You can't expect us to believe everything we see, especially when it comes from a second-rate Shadow the Hedgehog cosplay!”

 

“You kids don't appreciate the humanities these days… you're all too heavy in science fields to know what true art is! But, I guess I can be generous and show you bastards again.”

 

The door behind Monokuma’s throne rumbles and creaks open.

 

“Look, with your own two eyes, and feel despair! Man, does that sound cool or what!”

 

Dread creaks and settles in your bones, and looking, seeing everything for the first time—

 

—the sky red and smelling of musty decay, the harsh sunlight and brittle dust flying into your eyes from harsh winds—

 

—you think you’ve given up hope.

 

But you haven't.

 

“Bullshit.”

 

Louder.

 

“This is bullshit! Do you really expect us to believe something like this?!”

 

Monokuma just stands there. “…What?”

 

Ouma whistles off-key. “Man, I didn't think a stuffed toy could go deaf. Or is our Headmaster-chan just plain dumb? Hey, hey, did you really think you could fool us with such a cheap act? Give my group members a little more credit than that.”

 

“You’re going off script.”

 

Monokuma leans forward. “Eh? Did you say something, maybe? Why don't you share it with the class, Kiibo!”

 

“Like I said, you're going off script.”

 

Kiibo’s eyes flash an irregular red.

 

“Iruma-san. That was not supposed to happen.”

 

“What wasn't?!”

 

Kiibo materializes a book out of nowhere and slides ineffectual glasses on. “Why don't you tell me? The end of the world was caused by the Super High School Level Hunt, perpetrated when SHSL Despair sent robots to kill every Super High School Level Student in the world. Furthermore—”

 

“Hey, Kiiboy, don’t bore us with a history lesson! Get to the good part already!”

 

The items vanish. “So you already knew? I suppose I can give you some credit.”

 

“Kiiboy was never good at lying in the first place. I was just sitting there… watching… waiting for you to tell me the truth. I hate liars, after all! And you deceived me by not telling me the truth, which is a lie by omission. You should feel sorry for yourself, deceiving a friend like that!”

 

“I apologize.”

 

Ouma’s hands are folded behind their back. “Hm, what exactly are you apologizing for, anyway? Can robots even feel sorry for others? Unlike humans.”

 

Kiibo bows their head. “No, I am sorry I had to do that, but that was merely my role in the story.” They sigh. “I am the mastermind. Believe it or not, that's the cold truth I offer you—you can take it as a gentle lie, however. I know you can.”

 

Sweat drips down their face. You think they look like a cornered animal, but they bite back twice as strong.

 

“What do you really know about me? I think Kiiboy’s being really presumptuous right about now! And we don't want that, do we.”

 

Kiibo sighs. “At least you're acting somewhat as expected. You’ll become a wonderful villain in the next round for sure. As for you,” they look in your direction, and you clutch the podium tighter.

 

“You weren't meant to be the protagonist in the first place. But it seems she wasn't fit for the role, and you survived instead. And for a while now you’re acting wonderfully out of character… you’re really just a trophy heroine. Chabashira had to protect you because you couldn't do it yourself… I’m so disappointed. It was too easy to just incapacitate you.”

 

The whirring, the shocks, they all resound in your mind. And your face must have shown it because Kiibo looks at with you with sorrow and condescending pity.

 

You're frustrated, you really are. You wish you could wave a wrench in their face, to take them apart and build them anew again. But you can't, so you’ll have to use your words instead.

 

“Who’s acting out of character here? This isn’t the Kiibo I know! Our Kiibo is a stupid, easily affected fool who cares far too much, who always wants everyone to be treated equally! Not some fucking edgelord final boss of a third rate-platformer!”

 

“Nishishi,” Ouma says, holding up a finger to their face. “Guess our dear author is getting a little tired. Can’t even hold up a story on their own, it seems.”

 

“Enough,” Kiibo’s voice sharpens. “That’s enough out of you. I've provided you all the logical motives—killing and being forced to kill, forbidden actions, the loss of the outside world. There’s only one thing to do now, and that is to vote.”

 

Kiibo continues speaking to an empty room with an empty audience to two people who feel empty at the core. “I will abstain from voting, naturally, but it comes down to the two of you. You can choose either hope or despair. Cooperate on hope, and I will die and you can leave this place and graduate on your own. Cooperate on despair, and you will both be free to die, and I will grant you a quick death.”

 

You look at Ouma over on the other side of the trial room and gulp. “What happens if we don’t cooperate, then?”

 

“Simple,” Kiibo says. “The one who chooses the side of Hope will be executed.”

 

You suck in a breath.

 

“What a sad game. What a boring game,” Ouma drawls. “Hope and despair—it’s not like anyone hasn't seen it before. Everyone’s done that, so next time you should try to make it a little more interesting.”

 

Their sneer sharpens. You’re surprised their mask can last so long even after all this time. But it’s useless. It’s all useless.

 

…You’re nothing but animals in a cage.

 

“Is that really what you want, Kiibo? You asked me to repair you at first! To make you human! You’ve fulfilled your promise so far, you’ve become one of us, and you’re just going to throw it the fuck away like that? Why?”

 

You've started crying, or maybe you’ve been crying for a while. “Why? Just answer me! Why?”

 

A simple, rote answer. “To feel despair.”

 

You grab at your hair, practically tearing it. “You and I both know that’s bullshit! How do you feel despair if you can't even have human emotions? Tell us the real reason! If someone’s making you do this, tell me! I can deal with them! Ouma can deal with them! We’re strong enough, we’ve come this far for a reason!”

 

Kiibo folds their hands and closes their eyes as if silently praying.

 

Ouma meets your eyes, saying softly. “There’s no getting to them now. All we can do is accept the ending and vote. Our time as actors… has come to an end. For what it’s worth, Iruma-chan, you weren't boring at all.”

 

Your hand hovers over the right button, and so does Ouma’s.

 

You don’t remember pressing anything as time speeds up abnormally fast, but Ouma chokes on poison in their mouth and dies spread-eagled like a tragic hero, and you follow suit as the world calls for your execution.

 

.

 

stop program.korosi_ai

 

co_d_on = met(1),

world.runExecution

 

world.execute(me); )

}

 

.

 

The end condition has been met.

 

Sighing, the intern wakes up and takes off their goggles, rubbing at an invisible headache. Being dead was so tiring, even more tiring was being dead in the Virtual Reality program. In the end, even they have no idea as to what happened.

 

They stretch, sliding their glasses on and walking to the next room where the other students still lay asleep. It seems they were the first to wake up… well, that is how it should be, given their administrator permissions, but the hatches are still locked in red.

 

Flicking off the locking mechanism, they step to the closest pod and open it up to see a flaxen-haired woman.

 

They grab her wrist and feel at the veins.

 

There is no life.

 

They drop it in their disappointment. So this means that this test run was a failure condition too. What a shame. They had high hopes for this one.

 

Pushing their long blue hair out of their way, they bend forward and caress her cold face.

 

“You did well, but I'm sorry you didn't make the cut. Don't worry, though, I’ll make sure you’re reborn. You are one of my characters, after all. I have high hopes for you, Miu Iruma.”

 

Despite disappointment reeking from their bones, the intern finds themselves at the nearest wall phone.

 

“Yes, this is Tsumugi Shirogane. Yes, the failure condition has been met. I’d like Technical Support to go dispose of the dead bodies. And do me a favor and bring the next batch in, will you? Thank you very much.”

 

The line drops, and the intern turns away from everything.

 

It will work. It has to work. They just need a few more sacrifices to reach it.

 

 _Danganronpa_ must be reborn, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> geez balancing this many characters at once was so hard??? writing is fake man... i'm just glad this is out of my face
> 
> since elicchi said it might be neccescary: ouma's ng code was to cooperate with someone's demands but i burned out at the ending before i could bring it out to it's fullest potential. some other ng codes can be provided on request
> 
> thank you to user @fatiguedfern for beta reading!
> 
> comments and kudos are very much appreciated!!!


End file.
